You Let Them Go
by LavenderStorm
Summary: When Biggs Darklighter was captured by the Empire, the last person he expected to see was Luke Skywalker Vader. Wherein an eighteen-year-old Luke has to choose between his friend and his family. And live with his choice. Dark!Luke, Sith-Lord-in-training!Luke
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Wow, it has been ages since I last published a story. To those of you still studying, do enjoy it because work is many times more mind-numbing and brain-draining.**

 **This story is inspired by countless other Dark!Luke stories out there. Nothing new about the plot, do not read if you're looking for fresh material. It'll be a short story, so that I don't have to worry about finding the time to finish it:X Basically, just a ficlet that I'm using to polish my rusty writing skills.**

 **The basic premise is that the Emperor is Luke's grandfather and Darth Vader is Luke's father. Darth Vader found Luke on Tatooine when Luke was fourteen and brought him back to Imperial Center (Coruscant). Months after his eighteenth birthday, Luke and his father are on a shake-down cruise on board the Executor.**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Biggs Darklighter sat in a standard cell in the detention level of the Star Destroyer, the Executor. The white walls, white floor and white pallet did little to brighten the gloom of his heart. Oh, why, why in stars and galaxies was he so unlucky? Red Squadron had merely been on a standard supply run to a neighbouring planet, when all of a sudden, the Executor came out of hyperspace almost right on top of them. Biggs did not know who was more surprised, Red Squadron or the Imperials, but that did not stop either side from opening fire. And one squadron of X-wings held no chance against a Super Star Destroyer. His entire squadron had been decimated; only his and Wedge Antilles' craft had been crippled instead of destroyed. Then they had been brought in and, if his admittedly limited knowledge of standard Imperial protocols were anything to go by, would soon be interrogated.

Biggs would have to be strong. Would have to hold out in the face of torture, and refuse to give the Imperials any information about the rebel base on Yavin IV. He would have to….

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the mechanism of the door engage and the door slid open. He set his face into defiant lines and looked up at the Imperial who had walked into his cell. Clad in a black uniform…wait a minute…even though the designs were similar, what the person was wearing was in no way a uniform. Indeed, despite being cut along military lines, the tunic was not made of standard Imperial issue. Biggs blinked, then allowed his eyes to see, to really see the person who had just entered his cell. Blonde hair, warm blue eyes…and…

"Sithspit! Luke!" Biggs exclaimed. He recognized the teenager standing in front of him, even though four years had passed since he last set eyes on him. How could he not?! This was Luke Skywalker, his best friend, with whom he had bull-eyed womp rats, threaded the needle at Beggar's Canyon… A wide grin broke out on his face at the sheer delight he had in seeing his friend again.

Then reality came crashing down. "Hello Biggs," Luke's reply was soft and grim. The tone of the voice, the crisp, cultured Basic that was so different from the accent that a native of Tatooine would use, that Biggs remembered just who his friend was. Luke Skywalker Vader, heir of Lord Darth Vader. When the news had broken a few months ago, Biggs had avowed firm disbelief at first. Then the intelligence reports had started trickling in. Luke went everywhere Vader's flagship went, commanded a mini-squadron of his own – a min-squadron which had a legendary kill count. Luke appeared next to Vader at important events, like Empire Day, in a position of honour. And Biggs had to swallow his disbelief as the truth sank in. But, deep in his heart of hearts, he still could not believe that his childhood friend was the son of Vader.

"Is he really your father?" Biggs blurted out the question that had been weighing on his mind since the news first broke. Inclining his head slightly, Luke replied, "Yes, Lord Vader is my father. In all sense of the word." He seemed to hesitate, then continued, "His enemies kidnapped me when I was born, and hid me on Tatooine in hopes that I would turn against my father when I grew up."

"What? Why?" Curiosity overtook Bigg's logic as he questioned his friend anxiously. It appeared to be a touchy subject, for Luke's face twisted in anger even as he replied, "I'm powerful, Biggs. Strong in the Force, like my father before me. If my father's enemies had succeeded in their manipulations, I could've been a severe inconvenience to the Empire. They would've had me betray my father!" Biggs stared at this raging facsimile of his best friend. Sure, Luke had a temper, but Biggs did not think he had ever seen such pure, unadulterated rage on Luke before. But then, Luke did not have something like this to be furious about before, did he?

"Luke…" Biggs cleared his throat nervously and whispered, hoping to calm his friend down. Luke glared at Biggs for one long moment, before he took a deep breath. Then, so suddenly that it was like a locking mechanism had been depressed, Luke's face smoothed out into an expressionless mask, with not even a flicker of his prior rage showing.

"But I did not come in here to rant, did I? So, tell me Biggs, what are you doing with the rebels?" Luke queried with one eyebrow arched almost regally.

* * *

Luke suppressed a sigh when Biggs finally finished telling his story. His friend, two years older than him, had quickly signed up for the Imperial Academy upon reaching eighteen, the official minimum age of enlistment in the Outer Rim worlds. Then, just as they had envisioned in the daydreams of their youth, Biggs had gone on to become an exceptional pilot in the Imperial Academy…only to find himself jumping ship to the Rebellion after one too many perceived Imperial atrocity.

It just goes to show, thought Luke, how rampant corruption was amongst the minor officials. Luke's resolve was further strengthened; he would help his father and grandfather root out corruption in the Imperial Armed Forces, so that situations like this would be minimized. Why, to lose such a gifted pilot due to the inadequacies of the Imperial forces that resulted in them being doubly susceptible to the wiles of the Rebels was extremely detrimental to the Empire!

That was a matter for another day however. Right now, the most pressing problem that Luke faced was that of Biggs' fate. Were he to leave him here, he had no doubts that Biggs would soon be executed as the Rebel traitor that he was. But was Luke able to stand by and watch his childhood friend face that fate?

Even though Luke had since found his true family, Biggs Darklighter had been an integral part of his childhood. After toiling on his 'Uncle' Owen's moisture farm day and night, Biggs' company meant the world to a young Luke Skywalker when he went to live out his dreams, to escape from reality by chasing down thrill and excitement for a few hours. Whether it be shooting at womp rats or shooting down Beggars' Canyon in his T-16 skyhopper, Biggs had always been there to accompany him.

Luke knew that he should turn and leave this very moment. Abandon Biggs to his fate, a fate that he had earned when he joined the Rebel Alliance. As the son of Darth Vader, as the grandson of the Emperor of the Galactic Empire, he was duty bound to do just that. And when Biggs was eventually sentenced to execution together with the other Rebel captive, Luke might even have been honour bound to watch the execution.

But Luke knew that he could not just leave like that. Even as a sickening lurch in his stomach warned of the consequences of his decision – his father and grandfather would be furious – Luke came to a decision. It was time, Luke thought, to repay his debt to Biggs Darklighter. A debt of friendship. Pushing aside thoughts of his family to mull over when he had the privacy to do so, Luke fixed Biggs Darklighter with a piercing stare.

"I can get you out of here, Biggs. But that's it." Luke said evenly. "I will not ask you to promise not to go back to the Rebels because I know that you will not keep that promise." He leveled a penetrating gaze at Biggs, feeling a rush of disappointment when Biggs avoided his eyes. The offer for Biggs to join him in the Empire died in his throats. Luke might only be a Sith Lord-in-training, but he knew with certainty that Biggs would not defect. Whether it be the result of indoctrination or genuine belief in the Rebellion, Biggs Darklighter was as lost to him as his 'Aunt' Beru.

"This is the last thing that I'll ever do for you, Biggs." Luke stated softly. Allowing the sorrow he felt at that fact to feed into his ever-present, simmering anger at the Rebellion, Luke turned to leave the detention cell. Then, Biggs called out to him. "Luke, wait!" Hope, tentative and cautious, sprouted like a new sprout in the beginnings of spring. Had Biggs changed his mind after all?

"Yes?" Luke did not turn around. He clasped his hands together in front of him to hide the slight trembling that had resulted from his nervous anticipation. If Biggs were to change his mind about returning to the Rebellion, Luke would invite him to stay in the Empire. _With him_. He would give Biggs the position of his wingman in his personal squadron; it was a position that the very best and experienced dogfighters vied for; second only to that of being a wingman in Darth Vader's personal squadron.

"What about my friend? Wedge Antilles, the pilot who was captured together with me…Luke, you'll save him too, right?" Hope, which had never been given a chance to truly blossom, withered immediately, turning into the darkest disappointment. Luke smiled humourlessly, bitterly. He had never experienced spring, after all, on that Force-forsaken planet of Tatooine. Why should this be any different?

For a fleeting moment, the curling bitterness in Luke's stomach tempted him to sneer at Biggs, to observe, and delight in Biggs' reaction when Luke rejected his plea to save his _friend_. Was Luke not his friend too? Why did Biggs choose _him_ over Luke? He squashed down the childish urge to use words to hurt, to wound Biggs in retaliation. This, after all, was the last thing he could do for the man that he had once called his friend.

"As you desire." Luke replied coolly. With that reply, he felt the heavy, warm weight that had shackled his heart and hands in the name of friendship fade away. When the doors of the detention cell shut behind him, Luke felt that he had just delivered an eulogy to his past self. Henceforth, he would embrace his identity as Luke Skywalker Vader, Heir to Darth Vader, Sith Lord-in-training, grandson of the Emperor.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm basically fleshing out the story that I've half-written years ago. While I've tried researching various details using Wookieepedia, please do pardon me if I've gotten details of the Star Wars universe wrong.**

 **Warning: Unhealthy father-son relationship...I think**

 **A big thank you to all who left messages of encouragement for chaper one. Quite frankly, I wouldn't have continued posting if no one was reading the story.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

"Release the Rebels that were captured two days ago." Luke Skywalker Vader ordered firmly in his most authoritative voice. He had selected this particular time block to secure the prisoners' release, as he knew that the Stormtrooper Commander would have gone on his rest break, leaving the detention center temporarily in his subordinates' care.

The Imperial stormtrooper temporarily in charge faced Luke in his blank mask of a helmet. Someone unused to the shiny white helmet and opaque-looking visor would assume the stormtrooper to be emotionless, but with the aid of the Force and expertly reading the tense lines of the stormtrooper's posture, Luke knew the man to be wavering between nervousness and disdain. "I have not received any authorization to that effect…sir." The honourific was tacked on hastily, almost as an after-thought.

Given Luke's current high profile as Darth Vader's heir, everyone on board the Executor knew of his presence and his position. The issue however, was his official rank. While Darth Vader was the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces and a Dark Lord of the Sith, Luke was merely his heir. Heir to the Dark Lord of the Sith was not an officially recognized Imperial appointment. Technically, he was merely a Squadron Commander in the Imperial Military, and held no authority over the stormtroopers. That was something that he would see changed as soon as possible, Luke scowled internally. If the fourteen-year-old Tatooine farmboy had known of _this_ Luke Skywalker Vader, he'd have marveled at the changes wrought in himself. To go from being a wide-eyed farmboy enthralled at very thought of speaking to a Sith Lord to a man who thought nothing of making nepotistic demands of the Emperor or Darth Vader could only be described as galaxy-shaking. Indeed, the subjects of the Galactic Empire would feel the effects of this change for many generations to come.

In the meantime, it looked like Luke would have to do things the hard way. Bringing the Force to bear, Luke wriggled his fingers in the general vicinity of the stormtrooper's helmet and gave a mental shove. "You will release the Rebel prisoners."

"I will release the Rebel prisoners." The stormtrooper repeated back monotonously. Jerkily, he keyed something into the control station in front of him. Luke waved his hand again, clumsily wiping the man's memory of the exchange; he still wasn't very good at the subtle arts of memory manipulation. It was good that the Force had been with him; this stormtrooper was the very definition of _weak-minded_.

It didn't matter that the memory manipulation might not be perfect, because Luke had no delusions that he'd manage to keep this incident from his grandfather the Emperor or his father the Sith Lord. He placed his faith in the Force, hoping that his actions would go unnoticed till Biggs and his Rebel compatriot was long gone.

Luke stopped at Biggs' cell first. Biggs was pacing up and down his cell in nervous anticipation when the door hissed open. "Time to go," Luke said softly. It was curious really, how something which had affected him so greatly just a day ago could feel so…insignificant now, emotionally. But Luke knew it was but the result of the meditation he had undertaken when he had returned back to his quarters the previous day. The hurt and resultant anger was still there, ready to be called upon at a moment's notice, just locked deep beneath layers of Force discipline.

The look on Biggs' face was one of feral excitement. "Let's go." Then he frowned as he took in Luke's bare hands and empty utility belt, save for a silver, long cylinder that he could make neither head nor tail of. "Where are the weapons?" Luke stared at his erstwhile friend flatly. Did Biggs think that Luke would give him weapons that he could use to attack Imperial troops? No matter what, Luke was a member of the Imperial military. He would not give his friend weapons so that Biggs could murder Luke's comrade-in-arms. Whilst loyalty had always been in short supply amongst the Imperial High Command, Luke knew that most of the ordinary stormtroopers on the Executor were loyal to his father, some of them even fanatically so. It would be poor payment indeed if Luke knowingly caused their deaths.

"You won't need them." Luke stated coldly. Something must have shown in his face, for Biggs fell silent as he followed Luke out of the door.

When they stopped at Wedge Antilles' cell, the man was astonished to see Biggs Darklighter arrive with a man dressed in black Imperial pilot combat fatigues. Luke allowed Biggs to explain the situation to his comrade, since he had not bothered paying a personal visit to this person beforehand.

"So this is Vader's son. I'd thought you'd be taller," Antilles raised his eyebrows sardonically. It's probably for the best, Luke thought distantly, that I had not met him in a one-on-one meeting. He doubted that he'd be able to resist Force-choking the man to death otherwise. Luke stared at the man coolly, noting that the man was half a head shorter than him. Letting his eyes traverse the man's unimpressive height, he replied coldly, "Look who's talking."

"Are you sure about him, Biggs? The Imperials could just be looking for an excuse to murder us in cold blood." Antilles folded his arms as he glared at Luke suspiciously.

Luke reminded himself that he was fulfilling his duty to the man he had once called his friend. Taking a deep breath, he resisted the urge to make his point in a _pointed_ and violent manner. Instead, Luke scowled. "As if we'd need an excuse for that. Need I remind you that as prisoners who have committed high treason, you literally have no rights." Stepping forward menacingly, he told Antilles softly, "If I wanted your deaths, I could throw you out of an airlock right now and no one, not even my father, would blink an eye."

Turning back to Biggs, Luke stated simply, "Your window of opportunity is closing fast. If he doesn't want to go, leave him." It was a ploy, of course, to get Antilles moving, and fast, but Luke would not bat an eyelid should Biggs decide to abandon Antilles there and then.

Biggs shifted uncomfortably at the thick tension in the air. "Look Wedge, I grew up with Luke. I trust him. Besides, wouldn't you rather die in an escape attempt than stuck in a cell?" Luke smiled bitterly at Biggs' words in his attempt to persuade Antilles. So much for trust.

Eventually Antilles relented and the trio left the cell. Luke stretched out with the Force, using it to locate all living beings before planning a route to give them a wide berth. To an outsider, it was uncanny. An ability to be feared, especially when demonstrated by a high-ranking Imperial personage like Luke was. Luke felt suspicion and animosity roll off Antilles in waves, coupled with a healthy dose of fear. As for Biggs, he stared at his one-time friend with astonishment in his eyes.

After Luke directed the three to hide in the recesses of an alcove, a pair of stormtroopers marched down the standard grey corridor that the trio had occupied just moments before. Once the stormtroopers had left, Biggs whispered in delight, "Amazing! How did you manage to do that, Luke?"

Luke could not deny that he felt a rush of grim satisfaction at the awe in Biggs' voice. It appealed to his vanity, satisfied the part of him that had once craved his older friend's approval. "I am my father's son, Biggs. The Force is my birthright."

Biggs smiled at his friend, stroking his curled moustache excitedly. "You should join us, Luke. The Alliance could use someone like you. Just think of what you could accomplish with such abilities!"

Luke felt a chilling disappointment turn his blood to ice. So, now that he had _abilities,_ Biggs wanted him by his side, was it? If Biggs had made that offer previously whilst in his cell, when Luke had first offered up the opportunity to escape, Luke would have been touched. True, might have laughed at Biggs' misguided offer, and he would not have accepted it for the galaxy, but he'd have been touched.

But now…to be courted to the Rebel Alliance only for his abilities…if it'd had been a complete stranger like Antilles, Luke would have understood. But from Biggs…

 _We're a couple of shooting stars, Luke! We can't be stopped!_ Biggs used to yell excitedly after they had raced their skyhoppers through the canyon. That guy, that friend, was lost to Luke forever.

It was a fact that Luke noted clinically, having distanced himself from the emotions accompanying that thought. He could ill afford to let any hint of what he truly felt leak across the Force. With his father, so much more experienced in the ways of the Force, on the same ship, if Luke so much as showed a tiny hint of the maelstrom of emotions that he truly felt, the rescue attempt would be over in a split second.

"I will not leave my family, Biggs," Luke said as neutrally as he could manage in that moment. It was evident that Antilles was dying to say something disparaging about Luke's _family_ , as could be seen from the pronounced sneer on his lips that had formed after Luke's remark. Biggs however, perhaps wiser to Luke's temperament, silenced Antilles with a cautious touch to his shoulders.

After that, they continued on in cold, tense silence.

However, the Force was not always with them that day. At the next turn, just before they reached the main hanger, the trio encountered a pair of B1 battle droids. Luke cursed silently. If it was one thing the Force could not help him to avoid, it was droids, for these were not living creatures. Unlike Super Star Destroyers who maintained only the bare minimum of maintenance droids due to the general distrust of droids in the Imperial era, Luke knew that his father had a soft spot for droids. If Darth Vader could be said to have something as mundane as a soft spot. In fact, their very first father-son bonding moment had occurred not over Force-training, flying or even dinner, but over the repairs and upgrading of an R2-D2 unit that his father had befriended in his youth. It had been the first of many bonding moments shared between father and son. After years of living with his reserved aunt and indifferent uncle, an affection-starved Luke had luxuriated in Darth Vader's evident fondness for him. Luke knew that in his own way, his father loved him, undeniably fiercely, mayhap a touch possessively.

"Unauthorised personnel detected. Commander Vader, please stand still and await escort." The chrome-plated battle droid with spindly limbs made its announcement mechanically, swinging the blasters attached to its arm to point at Luke and the other two escapees. Its droid partner followed suit. Behind him, Biggs and Antilles swore colourfully, but weaponless as they were, they had the sense to keep out of his way.

If Luke had been caught by stormtroopers, he'd have tried to bluff his way out, or failing that, used the Force to persuade the stormtroopers to let them go. It was one of the reasons why he'd worn his combat uniform; it made more sense for a pilot heading towards to main hanger to be in one. There was no reasoning with droids, however, especially not battle droids with the mental capabilities of a five-year-old.

"Blast!" Luke exclaimed softly under his breath but he wasted no time in activating his lightsaber. Or rather, his father's old lightsaber that now belonged to him. As the blue blade sprang into being, Luke channeled his annoyance at the interruption into a Force push at the first droid, before swinging the lightsaber in an overhead arc towards the second droid's vulnerable neck-joint. The Force was with him in that swing, for the droid's head flew a distance away. And not a second too soon, for any second later and the droid would have reported its findings to the centralized command of the Executor.

Luke quickly went on the offensive, gracefully ducking the blaster bolts that the first droid sent his way. He made sure that the blaster bolts would glance off the durasteel walls harmlessly; if any bolt looked like it'd go near any of the Rebel captives, Luke parried it aside. It would not do for the rescue to end now simply because Biggs or Antilles succumbed to injuries from a blaster wound.

Feinting a kick at the droid's legs, Luke went quickly for its head with the lightsaber, knowing that it was the only way to bring down a battle droid for good. The hiss of the lightsaber as it cleaved through the metal easily evoked a strong sense of satisfaction in Luke. He made short work of the droids, before turning back to Biggs and Antilles, who were watching him warily as one would a dangerous predator. Switching off his lightsaber, Luke pressed his lips together grimly as he stuck it back into his utility belt.

"Let's go. Now. We have no time to waste," Luke hissed at the two would-be escapees before he set off once more towards the main hanger at a reasonable trot. Although he had increased his speed, he moved through the corridors as silently as a wraith.

"He'd be a formidable opponent," Antilles whispered to Biggs thoughtfully, in what he thought was a soft voice. "If we could get him to defect with us, the Empire would be down one Sith." Luke's Force-enhanced hearing picked up Antilles' words clearly, but he refrained from showing any signs of reaction. For a moment, he idly wondered where he'd be if the Rebel Alliance had gotten its hands on him first. Suddenly, a series of images flashed in his mind, as clear as day. An image of him infiltrating the Executor in a bid to rescue a nameless princess, one of him in a bright orange Rebel Alliance pilot jumpsuit, gearing up for a mission, one of him training with a lightsaber on board a ship with an old man that Luke knew instinctively to be Obi-Wan Kenobi…As the onslaught of images flooded his mind, Luke reeled momentarily from the splitting headache that it caused.

Dimly, in the background, Luke heard Biggs murmur back, "You don't know Luke. Once he has made up his mind, no one can change it."

Still, Biggs wondered. He should at least make another attempt, Biggs reasoned. After all, Biggs was firmly of the belief that the Rebel Alliance would win in the end. Didn't he owe it to his friend to make sure that Luke would be on the winning side? As for Luke's father…Biggs shifted uncomfortably at that thought. Biggs was not so naïve as to deny the fact that were Darth Vader ever to be brought in front of Alliance High Command, being put on trial for war crimes would be the least of _his_ concerns. Still, hadn't Luke lived perfectly well without his biological father for fourteen years? Who was to say that he needed a father at all? Biggs mused thoughtfully. He resolved to make another attempt at persuading Luke to join the Alliance.

In a matter of seconds, Luke had embraced and blocked off the pain caused by the Force vision – for that was what it was, Luke was certain. It was something to be discussed with his father, at a later stage. Assuming that his father would eventually forgive him for _this_ stunt… At the moment… "Let's move!" Luke motioned ferociously to his companions, before turning down the last corridor that led to the main hangers where the captured Rebel X-wings were held.

The main hangers would usually be relatively deserted at this time, but to Luke's delight, it was completely devoid of human life to his Force senses, save for one lone person. Leading Biggs and Antilles right to the location of the X-wings, Luke was pleased to see that his subordinate was right there with Luke's gleaming white and blue personal droid – the modified R2-D2 unit that his father had gifted him with for his fifteenth birthday.

Artoo trilled a series of beeps and whistles upon catching sight of Luke. By now, Luke was fluent in its mechanical language and could tell what Artoo wanted to convey. Right now, it was something along the lines of lamenting how foolish an action Luke was undertaking.

Luke sighed, "Not now, Artoo." The man standing next to Artoo tilted his head and said dryly, "I'd listen to him if I were you, sir. His words are wise indeed." The human male, one Lieutenant Tycho Celchu, was a TIE pilot from Luke's personal squadron. At the same time, at the age of nineteen, he was the youngest member of said squadron, and was someone whom Luke almost considered a friend.

Shaking his head, Luke glared at Celchu with more exasperation than anger. "Not you too, Celchu." The man was undeniably capable, as evidenced by the otherwise empty main hangar, but by the Force, the tongue on him!

Celchu gave a shrug, then replied offhandedly. "Your grave, sir." He did however, remained silent henceforth, only inclining his head slightly when Luke asked him if he had completed the tasks assigned to him. Luke was thankful at that moment for the strict hierarchy in the Imperial military and the resulting stiff formality. It allowed him to mask his sudden uncertainty, which had been brought to the forefront of his mind once more with Celchu's words. Guilt plagued his heart once more as Celchu's words

But there was no going back now. Luke waved Biggs and Antilles, who had remained awkwardly silent whilst Luke was exchanging words with his subordinates, forward. "My subordinate has arranged for the Executor's short range sensors to have a temporary malfunction. That should give you enough time to enter the asteroid field in the system. The Executor will be departing this system in seven standard hours. Stay hidden till we have departed, and you will have successfully escaped."

Biggs and Antilles exchanged glances. Then Antilles went on ahead to where the X-wings were located, presumably to check them out. Luke had perfect confidence in the X-wings flight capabilities - Artoo had repaired them after all. Biggs however, remained behind, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. Knowing his best friend well, Luke sent Artoo and Celchu a distance away. "Speak your mind, Biggs." Luke said as neutrally as he could manage.

"Luke," Biggs whispered urgently, "Why don't you come with us? Really, just think. When we were young, we dreamt of freedom, did we not? There are trillions of beings in this galaxy who suffer under the Empire. Now you can help them achieve that same freedom."

Luke just stared at his friend tiredly. It was true; as a child, Luke had dreamt of being the best starfighter pilot in the galaxy. But was there anything stopping him from that achievement right now? The answer was no.

As for the welfare of a trillion other strangers in the galaxy…as a member of the de facto Imperial family, Luke felt _some_ degree of concern for the many subjects living in what was effectively _his_ Empire. And yet, who was Biggs to say that the overthrowing of the current regime was the way to go? Luke's perception of the Alliance High Command was that of a bunch of petty, squabbling children whose ability to organize even small-scaled armed resistance was questionable. He highly doubted that putting them in charge of an entire galaxy would improve their governing ability.

In his youth, Emperor Palpatine was a superb politician. Even if Luke decided to pursue the goal of improving the welfare of the gazillion number of galatic citizens, there was no better teacher than his grandfather the Emperor. And eventually…eventually, Luke himself would be the third Emperor of the Galactic Emperor. Who else was better positioned than him to make changes to this Empire?

Those were all the rational arguments that Luke could make. But in his heart of hearts, Luke knew that he simply would not choose to leave his family. The Emperor, who was but a doting and wise grandfather to Luke. And Darth Vader, Sith Lord, who was merely a stern but loving father.

And towards Biggs, a Biggs who would so readily wish to take advantage of a friend's abilities in service of his _cause_ , Luke felt nothing save a burning anger and increasing disgust.

Luke turned away from Biggs Darklighter for what eventually turned out to be the first and final time of their lives. "I am Luke Skywalker Vader. Farewell, Biggs Darklighter."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is the last chapter of this story. There'll be an epilogue, of sorts. It was fun delving into this fandom, but it's a bit too tiring for me to attempt a longer story in this fandom. Too much high-end technology...**

 **Be warned, _extreme_ forms of corporal punishment in this chapter.**

 **Stockholm syndrome, anyone? ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

The sight of a huge, black Dark Lord of the Sith pacing in front of Luke Skywalker Vader should have been funny. Would have been funny, given any other circumstances. As it was, Luke could not help but think that the thudding sound heralded his doom.

"You let them go. The rebels. Your _friends._ " The mechanical respirator of Lord Vader turned the accusation into a resounding hiss. It was more of statement than question, really. So Luke did not make any reply other than a slight shifting in his kneeling position on the cold durasteel floor of his father's quarters on the _Executor_ , even as guilt crept into his stomach as he was reminded of his own actions.

True, Biggs Darklighter had been his best friend since childhood. But he was now a rebel pilot, a traitor to the Empire, and by extension, to his grandfather and father. What Luke had done was tantamount to treason on a galactic scale, and betrayal of his closest family on a personal level. But what else could he have done? Watch Biggs die a traitor's death? He could no more do that than he could watch his father suffer. But now, his father was furious, furious and hurt by his actions, as his grandfather would be if, no, when he found out.

"Have you ever thought of the number of Imperial soldiers that would die as a result of your actions this day? Are the lives of those two Rebels worth thousands of loyal Imperial soldiers' lives? Did you _consider_ what the Emperor would think?" Lord Vader whirled around, his black cloak billowing around him, until the shiny, black helmeted head was glaring directly at his son. Whatever else could be said about Darth Vader, it was undeniable that he was fair and just to his subordinates. " _How could you_?" The last was hissed with an underlying rage so hot and intense that Luke could feel the dark, billowing anger coalesce into a strong tornado of darkness in his father's Force signature through their Force bond. Unspoken went the thought, _How could you betray_ me _?_

Luke felt wretched as a miasma of emotions swirled in his very core; he was ashamed of his careless actions, guilty at hurting his father, sorrowful at having to choose between his family and his friends, angry at the Force for having put him in this untenable position, and fearful, fearful that his father would never forgive him for this betrayal. He had no excuse, he had consciously chosen, chosen to let his childhood friend go, consciously chosen to defy his father. He had known the consequences, known that his father's wrath would be great, that the latter would see it as one too many betrayals in a lifetime of betrayals, yet he had still done as his conscience bid.

"I am sorry…Father. I'm sorry." Luke whispered as he stared up at his raging father. There was nothing more he could say, no reason that he could offer that his father would accept. The only thing he could do now was to atone, to accept whatever punishment his father came up with, and work towards mending the breach between them.

Luke watch resignedly as his father's emotions fed the Dark Side and the Dark Side fed his father's rage even further, like a never-ending loop. He clamped down on his own emotions, no, he could not give in to his own fear and anger now or he would do something he'd regret later…then he braced himself as his father went for his lightsaber, as the snap-hiss heralded the arrival of a crimson blade. Would his father kill him? No, surely he was not that far gone in his rage, right? Uncertainty filled Luke, but his resolve remained. If his father felt that death was the only way he could pay for his betrayal, Luke would…

But no, the lightsaber arced towards his right hand instead, where he had rested it on his knee. In that one nano-second, Luke had time to react; he knew what would happen next, knew, but yet still he remained as still as statue. He _chose_ in that moment, just as he had before, chose to, to…

Pain blossomed, originating from his right wrist, then spreading up his arm and to his spine, like fiery flames …Luke almost collapsed, so great was the pain, even as he watched his right hand fly across the room to land a few feet away.

His father had cut off his hand. That shocking fact took a few seconds to permeate his brain, before Luke finally clawed his way out of the shock that threatened to take over his nervous system. Gingerly, Luke cradled his right arm to his chest, noting absently that the wound was already cauterized… _an advantage of using a lightsaber as a weapon…_ even as he tried to push himself back to a kneeling position. He would _not_ show weakness in front of his father – Luke would show him that he was a son that Darth Vader could be proud of, who could take his punishment like a man.

Speaking of his father… Luke became aware of the soft hissing of the mechanical respirator from the towering figure waiting in front of him. Bracing himself, Luke forced himself to look up at the masked visage of his father, once again, allowing his emotions to fill him. However, there was only one overriding emotion coursing through his entire body at that moment, a deep, dark desperate need and longing for his father to… _say something, anything…_ to forgive him for his actions…

With his mental shields ripped to shreds by the trauma that had been inflicted on his body, Luke knew that his father was aware of everything that he was thinking and feeling at the moment. So wordlessly, he pleaded, with every fibre of his being, for the forgiveness that he yearned for, now that he had paid his penance.

And as the Dark Lord of the Sith reached down wordlessly and gently helped Luke to stand with his black gloved hands, Luke knew from the Force bond that those hands offered both an apology and forgiveness in one. And Luke was content.

* * *

The medic-on-duty in the Med Center looked up as one dark-cloaked figure stormed into the room with a blonde-haired teenager in tow. Hastily, Mexus Summers, Imperial medic for high-ranking officers on board the Executor, rose to his feet and executed a respectful bow. "My lord." He greeted, even as his eyes were drawn to the raw-looking wound on the boy's right arm.

"Attend him. Do your best. If anything happens, I shall hold you personally responsible." Darth Vader hissed out menacingly before he abruptly strode out of the room. Mexus flinched slightly at the threat; serving on board the same ship as the Sith lord was a stressful job. Lord Vader did not tolerate failure, period. Failure was met with a swift reprisal in the form of your very breath being choked out of your lungs, and Mexus wanted to remain alive, thank you very much. So he immediately got to treating the wound on the teenager's arm, though the question of why and what the teenager was doing on the ship remained at the forefront of his mind. Or it did, until he got a closer look at the teenager's face. Looking past the pain-filled lines and grimace, peering into the startling blue eyes of the teenager, Mexus realized…

"Hang on… _Luke_?!" Mexus felt his jaws drop open in astonishment. It was undoubtedly the same boy sitting in front of him, the same boy that the Dark Lord had picked up from the Outer Rims four years ago. The Dark Lord's son, although Mexus had only found out that particular fact from watching the holo-news covering the ceremony announcing Lord Vader's heir a few months ago. His suspicions were soon confirmed when the teen tossed him a tired grin, "Hey, Mexus."

The medic snapped his jaws shut with a dazed shake of his head before continuing with his ministrations. Luke hummed and nodded in all the right places when the medic poked and prodded and explained how he was going to keep the nerves in the remainder of his arm alive until a prosthetic could be made. He could see, however, that the medic was practically bursting with curiosity. "Spit it out, Mexus," Luke said groggily, with a certain fondness, even as the pain-meds that had just been injected into his arm took effect. The medic had been very kind to him four years ago, when he had been a frightened child of fourteen, newly aboard the _Executor_ , having witnessed the abrupt deaths of his aunt and uncle at the hands of his newly found father.

"Um…was it an accident?" Mexus could not suppress his curiosity any longer. The wound looked like a lightsaber wound, though the question of what an eighteen-year-old kid was doing with a lightsaber defied Mexus's comprehension. He supposed the kid had been playing around with Lord Vader's lightsaber, but wondered how the latter could be careless enough to leave such a deadly weapon lying around. His own son was fourteen years old, and he was certain that even in four years' time, he would not allow his boy to so much as touch a weapon. Little did he know that the teenager in front of him with the face of an innocent child had not been a kid in years…

Which was why Luke's reply shocked Mexus to the core. "No. My father sliced it off," Luke remarked off-handedly, a small wrinkle marring his forehead. The hyprospray that was in Mexus's hand slipped to the ground. " _What?!"_

Had Luke been lucid, he would certainly not have answered the query in that manner. As it was, the pain meds in his system lowered his inhibitions drastically. "It was punishment," Luke explained matter-of-factly even as he flopped back onto the pallet tiredly. "I freed some rebels…Father was furious…" he mumbled, even as the trauma of the day caught up with him and he slipped into a light doze.

Mexus gazed at the sleeping blonde-haired teen with horror. How could…how could Luke think of such a wound as _punishment_?! The closest word for it, in Mexus's opinion, was torture. Especially when inflicted by a father upon his son. Mexus shook his head to clear his mind of such uncharitable thoughts. He was loyal to the Empire, true, for that Empire had brought peace and stability to his home world. In regards to the second-in-command of the Galactic Empire, he had little personal experience with the man, but all the officers he knew agreed that Lord Vader was a harsh but fair commander, albeit one with a nasty temper. But to cut off the hand of his son… Mexus shook his head again. He knew that he himself would rather die than to harm his son in any way, but then, who was he to judge a Sith Lord's relationship with his child? Despite that, he could not help but pity the teenager lying on the pallet.

* * *

When Luke stumbled back to his quarters some time later, he clumsily used the Force to unlock his door, stepped inside…only to find that his father was waiting for him. Only this time, his father had divested himself of the heavy breathing mask and respirator of his Darth Vader persona. Instead, standing in front of him was a hale and hearty, rakishly handsome, middle-aged man with light blondish-brown hair and intense blue eyes the exact shade of Luke's own.

The first time Luke had seen his father without the trappings of the forbidding image he had come to associate with Lord Vader had been a shock. Later, he had learned that while Darth Vader had indeed been severely injured at Mustafar, necessitating the breathing apparatus and mask, eighteen years of extensive surgery and the advanced cloning techniques from Kamino had seen the Sith Lord refitted with cloned limbs and a scarless face. Luke had been strongly relieved at that; to have his father go through the rest of his life being encased in that black suit would have been torture. And Luke hated and resented Obi-wan Kenobi for causing that very possibility.

Presently, Luke was very glad that his father was fully recovered, for it was then that he could gaze upon his father's face. Which was currently twisted in an expression of frustration…worry and concern? Before Luke could ponder on this development, Lord Vader spoke. "How's your arm?"

Luke smiled up at his father at his evident concern. "The medic says it'll heal nicely, and that he has already sent word for a first-class prosthetic to be made." Lord Vader frowned slightly, "Very well. I suppose you will have to use a prosthetic for the time being. The Kaminoans estimate that at least two years will be necessary to clone a replacement, given their current level of technology."

Luke blinked in surprise. There was a way to restore his hand? Luke had always thought that lightsaber wounds were irreversible! He knew that the Force transmitted the shock he was feeling, for Lord Vader fixed him with an intense stare. "I sense your shock, child. Did you think you had lost your hand for life?"

Luke opened his mouth to reply, but he had no idea what to say, so he settled for nodding. His father looked back at him in amazement and stark astonishment. "You thought it was permanent…and yet, you submitted to it?"

Flushing slightly, Luke nodded again. "I…I deserved to be punished for my betrayal and…treason," Luke flinched slightly at the last. Harsh-sounding words, words which delineated his failure as a son of Lord Vader and grandson of the Emperor of the Galactic Empire. But he was Luke Skywalker Vader, heir of the two most powerful men in the Galaxy. He refused to stammer his reply like an anxious and frightened child. "I would do, would have done, anything to earn your forgiveness, Father."

Even though memory of his failure loomed large in his mind, Luke still forced himself to meet his father's eyes. To his surprise, his father sent a wave of warmth and comfort through the Force to his son. "There will be no more talk of betrayal or treason. I see now that I have overreacted." Luke felt his jaws drop even as he caught the almost-apology, which was all the more treasured because he knew that his father just simply did not apologize. For anything and anyone, excluding, of course, the Emperor.

Lord Vader put his black gloved hand on Luke's shoulder, squeezing slightly. "You are young and still prone to foolish sentimentalities. You still have much to learn. Let us put this incident behind us and move on." Luke blinked once, astonished. Never before had some issue been so summarily dropped. His father and grandfather had always dissected and analyzed every issue, problem or situation caused by Luke, then proceeded to lecture and train him until they were satisfied that he understood just what exactly he had done, what he could have done and what resulted from what he had done. Which usually left Luke an exhausted wreck, especially since his family liked to punctuate their points with a healthy dose of Force lightning.

Lord Vader seemed to have caught the gist of Luke's thoughts through the Force for he smirked. "Do not fret. You will get the lecture, but not from me." Luke winced slightly. A discipline session with the Emperor was never painless.

"I guess I have that to look forward to when we get back to Imperial Center then," Luke said wryly. Under any other circumstances, Luke would have been mad that his father had foisted off such a session on his grandfather. But now, Luke treasured his father's forgiveness more than any additional pain that might result. "Thank you, Father." _Thank you for not dwelling on my weakness, thank you for your forgiveness._ It was at times like this that Luke fully appreciated how much his father meant to him, to he who had never known his father in his childhood years, who had spent fourteen years believing that his father was dead.

Nothing in the universe, not Kenobi, not Biggs, not the Force, nobody and nothing would ever cause him to betray his father again.


	4. Epilogue

**A/N: And here it is, the last chapter of this ficlet. And way before 14 Dec, the release date of Episode VIII in my country. I _am_ looking forward to it, even though I have always enjoyed the original and the prequel trilogies more.**

 **Thank you for all your reviews, alerts and favourites! As always, it comforts me to know that there's people out there reading my work.**

 **As some of you might have noticed, I have done away with the Sith tradition of creating new names for Sith Lords. There is nothing quite like having a family name, after all, to portray the image of a Dynasty. (Not to mention the hard time I would have had trying to think of a new name for Luke).**

* * *

 **Epilogue**

 **Two years later...**

When Luke Skywalker Vader set foot on Tatooine, he felt a shining presence in the Force, so bright and full of Light that it set warning bells off in Luke's head. It could only be a Jedi – of that Luke was certain.

Luke had been visiting his mother's family in the neighbouring planet of Naboo when he decided to take a set out to Tatooine, out of a sense of nostalgia. Foolish sentimentality, as Darth Vader would say. It was something that both his grandfather and father had tried to stamp out in him with only minor success.

But this discovery...this was a great find. The Sith had been trying to eradicate the Jedi since time immemorial. To think that one would be hiding on Tatooine, a planet that could be considered the home world of both Luke Skywalker Vader and his father, was an insult of great proportions.

Luke resolved to find and hunt down this Jedi. It would not be his first – over the past two years, he had killed a total of five Jedi. Jedi who thought that he'd be an easier target than his father or the Emperor, who soon learnt that the Sith Apprentice too was not a fighter to be trifled with. So yes, he was confident of taking down this Jedi. Regardless of whom he may be.

* * *

Golden blonde hair, icy blue eyes, a serious, almost regal demeanour and a black, stylish Imperial military-like uniform – that was Obi-Wan's first impression of Luke Skywalker. The twin suns of Tatooine, merciless and harsh, threw his features into stark relief, evoking a regal yet forbidding presence. Looking at him, Obi-Wan could well believe that this was one Lord Luke Skywalker Vader, third-in-command of the Empire.

As for his strength...He was strong in the Force, so strong in terms of pure, raw, unadulterated power that it reminded Obi-Wan of a young Anakin Skywalker. Yet his Force presence was so steeped in the Dark Side that Obi-Wan felt almost suffocated, so oppressive and cloying was young Luke's presence. It was Obi-Wan Kenobi's worst nightmare come true.

"Luke," Obi-Wan shook his head sorrowfully as he surveyed the powerful young man in front of him. "I have failed you."

"Well," Luke drawled lightly as his lips curled into a sneer. "It would depend on your definition of failure, Kenobi. If you meant injuring my father, your erstwhile good friend, to the point of grievous harm, then yes, you did fail my father. Badly." He paused as he took in Kenobi's uncomfortable shift at the mention of his injury of the man who had been Anakin Skywalker. Aiming his words to cut, and cut deep, Luke continued sardonically, "But if you meant your failure to keep me ignorant of my heritage, as a blind, naive farmboy on Tatooine, so that I could become your pawn...why then, I'm grateful for your failure, old man. In fact, I'd gladly get you a bottle of the finest Correlian whisky to celebrate this failure of yours, for it reunited me with my father. My family."

Kenobi suddenly seemed frail and weary. Gone was the hale and hearty wise old Jedi Master. Instead, to Luke's eyes, Kenobi was just plain old. Ancient. Aged beyond his years.

"Your Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru were your family," Kenobi said tiredly.

Luke scoffed. "My family indeed. A moisture farmer who could not tolerate the slightest hint of deviation from his own plans to mould me into a moisture farmer as well. And a woman, who, while well-meaning, would not stand up to her husband in regards to my welfare. Would you have had me brought up as an uneducated moisture farmer, Kenobi? That would have fit right into your plans indeed. How susceptible I would've been, to your plans and to your words, if I had first heard of the Force from you, after years of living on this dustball."

Obi-Wan was speechless in the face of Luke's accusations. Had they really been that wrong? The plan had been to hide Luke and Leia from their father because they had been the galaxy's only hope. But had they ever stopped to consider what it might have meant for the children themselves?

 _Master Yoda, we might have made a terrible mistake._ Obi-Wan acknowledged with a tiredness that he felt to his very bones. _._ Regardless, all of that was in the past. The only thing he could do at this present moment was to ignite his lightsaber and prepare to fight one Luke Skywalker. For the galaxy could not be allowed to fall into the hands of the Sith.

Luke ignited his own blue-bladed lightsaber gracefully and brought it up into a mocking salute. Outwardly brash as he was, mentally though, he was cautious. His father had oft spoken of Obi-Wan's skills with the lightsaber and the Force. Although Luke took pride in his abilities, as did most adepts of the Dark Side, he was not so blinded by his own arrogance that he did not acknowledge his opponents' prowess. _Kenobi is a master of Form III,_ Luke reminded himself. To defeat a master of defense, one had to go on the offense, but in a sustained manner.

Luke's opening attack was swift and merciless, a flurry of swings and thrusts, yet he did not truly expect it to have any effect; it was but an attempt to sound out Kenobi's abilities. Kenobi was undoubtedly showing the effects of his comparatively advanced age; minutely slower in his reaction time, but he more than made up for it with experience.

Luke lunged. Kenobi stepped to the side, avoiding the blow, bringing his lightsaber up in a fluid motion before taking advantage of an opening in Luke's defense. Luke pirouetted, raising his lightsaber to block, before reaching out to the Force. With a swift gesture of his hands, Luke threw some of the jagged rocks buried in the sands at the Jedi. It was meant as a distraction, nothing more. Luke was ready with a side slash even as Kenobi easily sliced the rocks apart. Unfortunately, Kenobi sensed his attack at the last moment and evaded the blow with ease.

The two opponents circled each other warily. Luke frowned in concentration. Kenobi was one of the toughest opponents that Luke had ever faced. Suddenly, Luke was inexplicably grateful that he had gotten used to his newly cloned arm in record time, and that it was as good as his original arm. Even as it was, Luke's only hope lay in Kenobi's momentary distraction, but Kenobi was too experienced a warrior for that. Still, if physical distractions did not work...

"Did you know how I felt, being told year after year that I could not attend school because I had to stay to help with the moisture farm?" Luke snarled at Obi-Wan even as he swung his lightsaber at his arm in a narrow arc. Kenobi looked surprised at his words, then an expression of infinite sadness crossed his face even as he parried the blow.

"When all my friends were learning about the galaxy, and I could only learn how to repair moisture vaporators..." Luke's anger only grew as he relieved his childhood memories. He stoked the flames, using it to feed his connection to the Dark Side of the Force. "The crushing disappoint, day after day, year after 't that a useful skill to learn? Repairing moisture vaporators is such an _essential_ skillset to have...Just imagine, I would have been the best moisture farmer on Tatooine!"

Luke's mocking words pierced Obi-Wan's heart like a blaster bolt. They had hidden Luke away for his own safety, but they had failed to consider the needs of the child.

Relentless in his verbal attack, Luke continued viciously, "You, Kenobi, denied me my heritage. You put my father into a helmeted, masked prison for twenty years! My father, the man who was your best friend! For that, I will never forgive you."

Obi-Wan's mind was a confused tangle of emotions that even his Jedi training could not curb. He had failed one Skywalker before, twenty years ago, a man that he considered a brother, a friend. To have the point driven home that he had failed another Skywalker, and one that by all rights should have been a nephew, was heart-wrenching. And to have that same Skywalker accuse him of hurting Anakin...

Given time, distance and a lot of meditation, Obi-Wan could have recovered. As it was, in the heat of battle, with his accuser pressing forth with a vicious onslaught, Obi-Wan felt a bone-deep weariness. It caused his movement to slow, perhaps only by a second, but it was enough.

Luke saw the opening and took it. With a fierce grin, he executed a somersault that brought him to Kenobi's back and thrusted upwards with his lightsaber. Kenobi was slow to block, which gave Luke those precious seconds he needed to reach out with the Force to throw another handful of sand and rock at Kenobi. Due to his slower speed, Kenobi's movement to decimate the rocks left him wide open. Then, Luke swung his lightsaber once more with a triumphant cry...and the blade hit home. Sunk into flesh, blood and bone. The acrid smell of lightsaber burning through flesh assaulted Luke's nose, even as memories of the Force vision he had experienced two years ago came flooding back. Force visions of what could have been...

 _At least we still have Leia. She's our only hope._ That was Obi-Wan's last thought as his consciousness faded, even as he gazed into brilliant blue eyes and sandy hair, so similar to that of his once-apprentice from ages past.

Luke blinked as the old man disappeared into nothingness. His ragged clothes lay strewn around on the hot Tatooine sand. Had Kenobi truly become one with the Force? It was no matter. Luke was not interested in the afterlife for he lived in the here and now. At that moment, the only thought in his mind was the jubilant expression on his father's face when he told him the news of Kenobi's death.

As for himself, the future beckoned. Now that he had killed Kenobi, a skilled Jedi Master, in a solo duel, Luke was certain that he'd be made a full Sith Lord, with all that it entailed. Lord Luke Skywalker Vader. He liked the sound of that.

* * *

 **Dagobath**

Amidst the oppressive air of the swamps, the green-skinned creature raised his head to the skies when he felt the disturbance to the Force.

"Passed away, Obi-Wan has." Yoda, once the oldest and wisest Jedi Master to grace the Jedi Council, murmured to himself sorrowfully. "Our only hope, Leia Skywalker is."

* * *

 **Well, it has been an enjoyable journey, but as all journeys must, this particular one has come to an end. If you've made it all the way to the end of this story, thank you for reading. :)**

 **I shall now proceed to work on my next story...or rather, on finishing up one of my old stories. Not in this fandom, it's a fic that I had left to be abandoned, but cannot resist revisiting time and again. Three guesses on which one it is...;)**

 **That's all for now, cheers!**


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